Plan Q
by ether-patient
Summary: A little something I wrote after HBP to come to grips with it. Clunky and self indulgent. Be nice.


It was one of those chilly, howling spring nights in Shrewstone. The wind and rain buffeted the thick glass of my windows, and the flame of my reading candle danced wildly, as if profoundly affected by the weather outdoors. As if by contrast, my big chausie cat, Spindle, was curled up in a motionless heap on the armchair, completely oblivious to the storm. I got up once more to check that the window-latches were secure.

I was restless; I had been trying to read _A Compendium of Ancient Potions_ all evening, but couldn't make it past the first paragraph. Though on a much-needed sabbatical from the university, I found myself missing more and more the friendly bustle of Morestoke and the constant companionship of my colleagues. For consolation, I had begun reading every obscure text in my field that I could lay my hands on.

Finally, I gave up. I blew out the candle, wrapped myself in my green nightdress, and curled up on my feather mattress. I would conquer the compendium in the morning.

I had barely gotten comfortable when I heard a tap at my door. At least, that was what it had sounded like -- could it have been the wind blowing a branch or stone against the thick wood? I held my breath and waited, thinking of that Muggle poem I like so much -- _Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. _I wondered who could be calling at this late hour.

A few moments later, I heard it again, much louder this time. I drew my wand from its place underneath my pillow. _"Lumos,"_ I said, and my cottage was instantly filled with a comforting greenish light. My linen housecoat was draped over one of my dining chairs. I pulled it on, tying it loosely as I went to the front door. The knocking had awakened Spindle, who leapt nimbly from his chair to the floor and silently followed me.

"Who's there?" I called out, pressing my ear to the door.

"Let me in, Therese," came a raspy voice.

I opened the door a crack. A sodden figure in a dark cloak stood dripping on the step. "Who are you?" I demanded, my wand at the ready. "What do you want?"

A ghostly pale hand emerged from the folds of the cloak and lifted the cowl. A familiar pale face stared at me from the darkness. I felt my mouth drop open, and pulled the door open wider to allow entry.

I closed and latched the door behind him. _"Claudus," _I muttered, pointing my wand at each of the windows in turn. The curtains snapped shut one by one. I then used my wand to light the wall sconces, which cast latticed shadows over the black, soggy figure now standing awkwardly in the center of my living room.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "It's too early for holidays...And _far _too late for visitors," I added, giving him a disapproving look. When I got no response, I lowered my voice and admitted, "You frightened me half to death, Severus."

He shot me a peeved glance as he struggled to remove his cloak, made heavy with rainwater. "A little help would be appreciated," he snapped. "Save the sermon for later."

"Charming as always," I muttered, and quickly dried his clothes for him. I helped pull off his cloak and scarf, and draped them over the back of the sofa. "Now then, poppet," I said in an affected Yorkshire twang, crossing my arms facetiously, "Would you like some tea with your sermon?"

He turned on me with a ferocious growl. "Stupid woman," he hissed, his face completely contorted by rage. I took a rapid step back, my fingers curling tighter around my wand. "What do you know about it? What do you know about any of it?" He gripped the back of his chair for balance as he moved towards me, limping slightly, but nonetheless intimidating. "You betrayed me, Therese, when I needed you most. The least you can do --"

I leveled my wand at him, but he had suddenly run out of fuel.

"Don't come any closer," I said, my heart hammering in my chest.

To my utter surprise, he started laughing. Not a menacing laugh, or mean, but mirthless and hysterical, bordering on mad. I stared, dumbstruck, as he sank to his knees on the rug and proceeded to fall apart.

I pocketed my wand and knelt before him, trying not to panic, wondering what on earth I was supposed to do. He was half laughing, half sobbing, his face in his hands. I had never seen such a blatant display of emotion from him before.

I grabbed his wrists firmly and yanked his hands away, then slapped him soundly across the face. "Get a hold of yourself," I snapped mercilessly. "Whatever it is that's happened, it's no use breaking down."

The shock in his eyes lasted only a moment. He looked up at me desperately. "You've got to hide me," he whispered. "The Dark Lord's sure to -- I can't return to Hogwarts --"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," I said in my most sensible schoolmarm voice.

"Ah, Tess," he sighed, his voice tired. He lifted a pale hand to his brow. "Always so goddamned practical."

"Get up," I said shortly. "I'll put on some tea."

I rose to my feet and walked to the kitchenette, where I flicked my wand at a pot of water, setting it to a boil. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and rested my chin on my folded arms, wishing that I had ignored this particular rapping at my chamber door. What on earth was the matter with him? And, moreover, why had he always got to make things so _difficult?_

A moment later, I heard a rustle of robes as Severus took the chair opposite mine. I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending he wasn't there.

"I must..._apologize_ for my intrusion," he said after a few moments, sounding like his old self again -- quiet and stiff, each word measured and deliberate.

I grunted and got to my feet, which felt as heavy as lead. I filled two teacups and dropped a teabag in each, carrying the cups to the table in waitress fashion. I felt a familiar twitch of annoyance as Severus's mouth twisted into a grimace at the sight of the tea.

"Tell me this isn't that American rubbish you always insisted on drinking," he muttered.

"I ought to make you drink out of the toilet for that."

"Anything would be better than Sleepykins."

"Sleepy_time,"_ I corrected him. "Snob."

"I am not a snob. I am civilized."

"You're a snob," I affirmed politely with a smile, feeling the years evaporate.

The last time we'd had this exact conversation was almost twenty years ago, during our last year at Hogwarts. Though he was the only member of Slytherin House who hadn't actively taunted me for being American, he nonetheless had that irrepressible and maddening streak of British superiority I found simultaneously hilarious and irritating.

I cleared my throat and swirled my teacup, waiting for it to steep. Steam billowed diligently from the cups, and I wondered if I hadn't gotten a little carried away with my boiling charm. I noticed Severus staring moodily into the rising vapor, a frown furrowing his brow.

"Why are you here?" I asked bluntly. His eyes flickered up to mine involuntarily. He seemed to catch himself, then returned his gaze to the cup before him.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not say," he replied quietly. "Not yet."

I nodded lightly and leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. It _wasn't _all the same to me, but I decided to keep my mouth shut so as not to provoke him.

I couldn't help this twinge of impatience. He'd burst into my home unannounced at midnight, collapsed into a blithering mess in my living room, and now refused to explain himself. And here I sat, Therese Vervain, Second Sorceress of the Polytric Academy of Physical Magic, able to bring down bears with my poisons but suddenly too afraid to question a harmless, if dour, old acquaintance from high school.

Then again...

He was a changed man, I could see it in his eyes. I had seen his armor crack. This was not the Severus Snape I had known as a child. Something awful had happened, and he was on edge.

I hesitated, then said, "I have another question."

He said nothing, which I gladly took as an invitation to continue.

"How did you know I was here?"

More silence. He lifted his eyes to mine and revealed a grotesque, toothy smile so unlike him it disturbed me.

"I didn't," he said.

I rose to my feet. "You are unhinged," I said hoarsely, my heart speeding up once again. I felt anxious needles on my palms and reached into my housecoat for the comforting sturdiness of my wand. I turned and walked out of the kitchen.

I went to the living room to get his overclothes, having every intention of putting him back out in the rain. To my chagrin, Spindle was curled up comfortably on the back of the couch, his smooth golden bulk completely covering the middle of the cloak.

"Spindle! Get off," I hissed, grabbing the sleeves and pulling. But it was no use. Spindle raised his big, lionish head to gaze at me groggily over his shoulder. He then returned diligently to the task at hand -- namely, sleeping like a furry, unmovable log. "Damnit," I growled, and pointed my wand at the cat. "I didn't want it to come to this, darling, but --"

"What do you think you're doing, Tess?" Severus asked disdainfully, scaring the hell out of me.

"Christ _almighty,_ Severus," I snapped, whirling to face him. "Could you be any creepier?"

"Can't very well leave without my cloak, can I?" he said softly, amusement gleaming in his eyes. Lightning-quick, he plucked my wand from my hand and tucked it into the folds of his robe. I let out an indignant squawk. "And I'd hate to disturb dear old Spindle." His voice had taken on a menacing quality, and I once again found myself rather regretting the way the evening was going.

"You bastard!" I exclaimed lamely.

"Tsk, such language. You fairly _gave _your wand to me, Therese. I didn't even have to use magic."

"I didn't know you were planning on _stealing _it! Give it back!" I cried.

He shook his head. "Listen to me."

"I'm not listening to you." My defensive instincts kicking in, I scrambled back into the kitchen and grabbed the still-boiling pot, holding it like a shield before me.

"Oh, good heavens. Just _listen _to me --"

"I'm not listening to you!" I yelled. "You burst into my home in the middle of the night, act like an escaped mental patient and almost attack me, you insult my tea --" I took a breath and got back on track. "-- and now you've taken the only thing that stood between me and the gaping _maw _of your insanity! _No, I am not listening!"_

Things started happening very quickly. Severus drew his wand and pointed it at me, opening his mouth to utter a spell. Instinctively, I snapped my wrist, flinging the contents of the steaming pot at him. He let out a startled yell and with lightning reflexes, blocked the scalding splash with a freezing charm. In the time it took him to utter the spell, I grabbed one of the sturdy oak chairs and swung it at his hand with all my might, effectively knocking his wand to the floor. I think I heard some bones crack, too -- he swore loudly, clutching his injured hand, and fumbled in his robes for my stolen wand. I used this time to make a break for the front door. I slammed it open and took off running, heading for the protective darkness of the forest.

_"Therese!" _I heard him shout from the doorway. But I was too far gone. Some ancient part of my brain devoted exclusively to survival had taken over, and it couldn't be reasoned with.

I didn't dare turn anyway, for fear of stumbling on the slick mud. I was barefoot and already my feet were freezing. The rain, if anything, had intensified, thrashing against my face as I ran. After a minute or two of hard sprinting, I got a stitch in my side and ducked behind a squat oak. I leaned against its soggy trunk, gasping for breath. The stitch soon loosened.

I slid down the trunk with a desolate moan, not caring that I was now sitting on a very wet clump of grass. As far as I could see, my only hope was to somehow make my way to the Academy, which was in the next town over. Morestoke was a good hour and a half by foot, and I was damned if I even knew which way led out of the woods. To make things worse, the rain pelted down as heavily as ever, drenching my hair into a sticky veil and chilling me to the bone. I buried my head in my sodden arms and cried, quietly and desperately.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, bawling like a baby into the crook of my arm. It felt like hours, but was probably more like twenty minutes or so. I was chilled and exhausted from the evening's events when I felt something grip my shoulder from behind the tree's trunk.

With a sharp breath, I jumped to my feet, only now noticing that a greenish glow had settled over the clearing. I moved to run, but the cold had seeped into my joints and I wasn't able. I stumbled and reached out for the tree. Severus grabbed my wrist before I could get to it, and I staggered into him, throwing him off balance too.

"Oh, for god's sake," he swore, and before I could open my mouth to protest, he shoved the green-tipped wand in my face and barked, _"Petrificus totalis!" _I felt my throat close and my body go rigid. I was caught.

---

I don't remember being carried back to the cottage. I awoke, feeling dazed and achy, some time later. My first sensory perception was sound -- the incessant tapping of the rain on the clay tiles of the roof had not abated.

I blinked a few times and took a breath. My mouth was dry as cotton and I coughed, but it hurt my throat terribly so I tried to hold it in. I noticed the flickering patterns of the sconces on the ceiling and discerned that it was still -- or once again -- very late at night or very early in the morning.

Before I could gather my strength to move, the last face I wanted to see drifted into my field of vision. "You unimaginable bastard," I tried to say, but it came out as nothing but a strangled croak. His lips moved, but I couldn't make out what he was saying -- his muffled words made it seem as if I was listening from underwater. I struggled to pull myself into a sitting position, but something that felt like an invisible anvil pressed down on my chest, causing me to sag back against...what? I couldn't even figure out what I was lying on.

I heard a few more garbled words, and I shook my head firmly, feeling aggravated. I pressed my hands to my ears like a toddler and let out what was meant to be an angry shriek but sounded more like a whispered moan. Though I couldn't hear what Severus was saying, the pitiful sounds coming out of my mouth sounded like jackhammers in my head.

_What has he done to me? _I wondered frantically, scrabbling at the quilt that covered me, suddenly feeling very itchy and hot. I felt my face flush with embarrassment as tears of frustration filled my eyes.

And suddenly I was free. The still air whooshed around me as if I had seashells to my ears. The pressure dissipated, and I could move again, though I could still feel a pounding fever in my head. I scrambled into a sitting position and looked around wildly.

I was in my living room, on the sofa. Everything was as it had been. The candles danced in the still air, tossed by invisible gusts. Spindle crouched, panther-like, on the nearest couch arm, as if he had been guarding me. Severus stood at the other end, looking abashed.

"Magical reaction," he said lamely. He took a hesitant step closer to me, but I scrunched up closer to Spindle, glaring daggers. "Tess...please. Send that infernal cat away and let me -- let me mend you."

"What's the cat got to do with it?" I said, startled by the sound of my own voice. All the shouting I'd done earlier had ground my throat raw, and I now sounded like a lifetime smoker.

Severus sighed exasperatedly and ran his hands nervously through his hair. "Every time I raise my wand to cast a spell, he jumps up and starts hissing and scratching like a wild beast," he explained, pacing back and forth. "I can't even cast a proper spell at _him."_

I tried to hide the explosive giggle that sprang to my lips by putting my arms around the cat and dragging him closer to me. I buried my face in his ruff, feeling his motor kick on almost instantly. I smiled smugly at Severus. "You don't mean my booncy wooncy little puddin' pie?" I asked with mock innocence.

He scowled. "Filthy creatures."

"Give me my wand," I demanded, catching him off guard.

He started to reach into his cloak, then appeared to think better of it. "No," he said, but there was no more scorn in his voice. In fact, he sounded reluctant. "I'd like to...explain, but I can't be certain you won't use it on me." I opened my mouth angrily to reply, adrenaline pumping, but he held up a hand. "I'm not saying I don't deserve it."

"Damn right, you deserve it," I muttered, but the sting had been taken out of my words. I scratched Spindle's ears roughly, but it wasn't long before my last drop of energy ebbed away. I slumped against the couch, feeling defeated. I felt the cushions shift as Severus sat down on the opposite side. Spindle emitted a low growl, deep in his throat, and drew himself back into a crouch. I yelped as he unsheathed his claws on my lap. Startled, the cat leapt off of me and onto the coffee table. There, he resumed stalking stance to keep a close eye on Severus, his tail twitching maniacally.

"You're feverish, Tess," Severus said tiredly. "You caught a draught. That's what happens when you go out in the rain bare-footed."

"You said I had a reaction," I said accusingly.

"To the _petrificus _curse, yes. You were ill when I cast it. I reversed it, but...I imagine it was the shock of the curse to your system that diffused your senses and left you partially paralyzed." He sighed and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a latticework of almost completely healed scratches. "I nearly bled to death just trying to alleviate the symptoms."

"I can't say I'm sorry."

"Neither can I. I would have been right miserable had I caused another death tonight."

I stared at him wordlessly, but he quickly looked away.

"Severus..." I said soothingly.

"I killed Dumbledore."

Time seemed to stop. "What?" I wondered if he was joking. But Severus had no sense of humor, and this wasn't funny, anyway. A fuzzy whiteness crept into my field of vision. I felt suffocated, as if drowning. "You..._Dumbledore?"_ I could not manage more than a whisper. "No."

The slightly insane jerk I had been glaring at suddenly transformed before my eyes like a Metamorph, unfolding like Alice's telescope, burgeoning into a dark and dangerous monster. He was suddenly an unknown variable, hazardous in its unfamiliarity. "You can't have --" I gasped. "What on _earth _would possess you to -- ?"

His eyes shot up, as if the gravity of what he'd just confessed had only now occurred to him. He fixed me with a frightening stare. _"You will never understand," _he hissed, and his voice was the voice of a stranger.

My mouth opened and closed involuntarily a few times, like a fish panting for the sea. I felt a sudden surge of energy and pushed off the sofa. Severus quickly rose beside me, but I held up my hands and shook my head feverishly. "You...you stay away from me," I wheezed, still short on air. I lurched into the hall and through the bathroom door, the only door in the cottage fitted with a lock. I shut myself in and yanked down the latch, then slumped against the casing with a thud.

Dumbledore? Was it true? Could Snape have really done such a thing -- what so many had tried, and failed, to do?

Dumbledore was inviolable, seemingly god-like in his mastery of magic. In my five years at Hogwarts, I had grown to depend on the sight of him, restless and full of energy, humming cheerily to himself as he went about the business of...what? Moving the earth on its axis? What, exactly, _did _he do? I'd never seen him do any of the stolid, schoolmaster-y things I expected of a British headmaster.

But more to the point, what _didn't _he do? I had all but idolized him. He had helped me -- invaluably -- in my own academic career. He had seen something worthy in my heart and brought it to fruition.

Had Severus really returned to the darkness? Had Voldemort's grip on his soul have been so strong as to lead him to destroy this man, this miraculous wizard?

No. It couldn't be true, I decided irrationally. Severus is messing with me. For reasons beyond my ken, he is trying to frighten me into doing something for him. _What does he want? _I thought frantically, the heat rising again in my head. I felt dizzy and unbalanced, even though I was sitting firmly on the floor. I put a hand to my forehead. I was burning up.

Slowly I got to my feet, pausing as all the blood rushed back down to my feet. I stumbled over to the sink and turned on the tap, feeling the cool water course over my trembling fingertips. I splashed some onto my face and glanced up into the mirror. I looked like a ghost. My stomach heaved.

I managed to make it to the toilet in time. I retched, voiding my stomach but feeling no relief as I sagged against the porcelain seat. The nausea remained. I reached up blindly with my fingers and pressed the lever, then lowered myself into a fetal position on the bathmat. Though nauseated and hot with fever, I felt numbness once again oozing through my veins, making me sluggish and dumb. My thoughts swirled in the same circles over and over again, lulling me into a strange half-sleep.

A knock at the oaken door of the bath jerked me into consciousness.

"Tess," Severus called.

I didn't answer, hugging my knees tighter and squeezing shut my eyes. _Maybe if I can just fall asleep...I'll wake up and realize it was all an awful, awful nightmare..._

The knock persisted. "Tess!" he called again, louder this time. If I'd had my senses about me I'd have noticed a hint of worry in his voice.

I moaned and rose groggily to my knees, then crawled over to the door. I leaned on it hard. "Don't you dare try to break open this door," I said unsteadily, closing my eyes as another wave of nausea, weaker than the first, washed over me.

"Don't be an ass, Tess. I could have opened it at any time."

With a start, I realized that he was right. He had both wands and could have used _Alohomora _on the door. But he hadn't.

Time went by. I could hear muffled noises on the other side of the door, and I hazily wondered what he was doing. A moment later, I felt something brush my knee, and when I looked down, I saw my wand. He had slid it under the door.

"You're sick," he said gruffly, right next to the doorjamb. "Use your wand to heal yourself and come back here. I will not harm you -- I give you my word."

I picked up my wand with a shaking hand, staring at it in confusion. I held it backwards, muttered a healing incantation, and felt the nausea dissipate. Thus relieved, I said, _"Luzianus," _and felt the fever in my brain replaced by a delicious, sweet coolness. I got slowly to my feet and made my way back to the mirror, where I cleaned myself up a little bit. I cast a roughshod drying spell on my hair, which had settled into damp, sweaty clumps around my face. I re-tied my housecoat, securing it up to my neck. I felt somehow vulnerable, hanging around a cold-blooded murderer in nothing but my pajamas.

Briefly, I considered using my wand on him. Paralyzing him, if nothing else, just to ease my mind while I decided what to do. But I knew it wouldn't work. He was probably standing outside waiting for me, wand at the ready, in case I made any sudden moves. I knew for a fact his reflexes bested mine.

Steeling myself for the worst, I removed the latch and pushed open the door, clutching my wand in the pocket of my housecoat.

Severus was nowhere to be seen.

I took a tentative step into the hall, stopping dead as the floorboards creaked beneath my weight. When nothing leapt out at me, I took a deep, calming breath and continued cautiously down the hall into the living room.

He was sitting, motionless, on the armchair, his chin nearly touching his chest, gripping the armrests like a library lion. _At least I can see his hands, _I thought with an internal sigh of relief. He lifted his head and our eyes met over the back of the couch, which was once again occupied by the great tawny body of Spindle.

"Tea?" Severus offered, his voice completely free of irony.

I nodded slightly, and he rose, gliding into the kitchen soundlessly and returning with a cup and saucer. I watched him warily as he went, but shook my head as he approached me. "Set it on the table," I demanded lamely, nodding towards the coffee table.

His patience was beginning to fray. He rolled his eyes in irritation and clanked the saucer down on the table. He returned to his place in the armchair, waiting for me to sit down.

"How could you?" I asked softly, over the back of the sofa, feeling like a child. Anger rose in my chest as I once again felt unbidden tears filling my eyes. I swallowed hard and tried to keep them back.

"I couldn't hope to explain it to you," he replied acidly, and the anger in my chest blossomed into a merry bonfire of rage. He must have seen the change in my expression, because he hastened to add, "It's a long story, Therese. There are not enough hours left in the day to recount it to my satisfaction."

I shook my head, incredulous. "You are a murderer," I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "You..."

It was the trigger that sent him, once again, over the edge. He leapt to his feet and began pacing the length of the rug, his face twisted into that frightening mask of a smile. "I gave him _years _of my life," he seethed. "Years of snotty nosed children and horrible essays, years of biting my tongue while that self-righteous little boil crowned himself king and gave himself the run of the grounds. Years of my life, Tess. Have you any _idea _how far I could have advanced in..." Here he trailed off, staring at me.

"In the hidden army of the Dark Lord?" I spat. "In those hellish ranks of the living dead? Those pathetic _beasts _-- "

"HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" he shouted. I glared at him bitterly, blood rushing to my cheeks.

"I will not," I sneered. "This is not a late scroll, Severus. It's human life. There are no excuses..." I found myself trailing off into a thin, wobbling voice I thought I'd left behind in about kindergarten. For some reason this made me furious -- this sudden, complete lack of control over my emotions. How could he stand there so coolly, fresh from a heinous murder, while I couldn't even keep myself together calling him names for it?

So, I screamed. I covered my eyes with my fists and screamed at the top of my lungs, as if it were grade four again, on the playground with my girlfriends having contests over who was loudest. I could feel my voice in my ears more than I could hear it, my rage gathering at the base of my throat and exploding through my teeth. I couldn't tell you how long I kept this up, but when I finally stopped -- out of sheer exhaustion -- my neck and chest ached horribly and just the thought of speaking made my toes itch unpleasantly.

When I opened my eyes again, Severus was staring at me with a mixture of horror and fascination.

"What on earth was that about?" he asked incredulously.

I shook my head, unable to produce a satisfactory "Catharsis." I crossed in front of the couch and reached for the teacup he'd prepared, the warm liquid soothing my throat. I grimaced and returned to the kitchen, banging open a cupboard over the sink and removing a hefty squarish bottle. I dumped a bit of its contents ungracefully into the teacup, swirled it halfheartedly and downed the remainder. With a ragged sigh, I collapsed onto the couch and closed my eyes. My head pounded in time with the ache in my throat, which was somewhat less after the heat of the liquor.

After a moment or two of blessed silence, I heard Severus clear his throat tentatively. I made a face and lifted a hand in warning, then poured another teacup full of whiskey and tossed it back. My hand went involuntarily to my throat, a shiver going through my spine as the bitter drink burned its way down. The teacup held more than a legal shot and considerably more alcohol than I was accustomed to drinking.

"Okay," I croaked.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked distastefully. I took this to mean he never partook of such filthy American spirits as Jack Daniels.

"Quite."

"Therese, you're completely right."

"What?"

"I said you're completely right."

"Yes, but...I'm sorry, what?" I'd heard him perfectly well, but wanted to hear those words one more time.

He sighed irritably. "You're right, Tess. Are you deaf? I've been an ass."

"I'm -- I'm sorry. I just want to get this straight. Are you trying to -- _apologize _to me?"

Almost soundlessly, Severus rose to his feet and walked to the couch, sat down beside me and gripped my shoulders, staring into my eyes. I found myself pulling away involuntarily. _"I -- don't -- know -- what -- to -- do," _he said gruffly.

I lifted a hand to my eyes, feeling woozy. "Shouldn't have had that second shot," I muttered.

"I don't know what to do," he repeated, sounding remarkably calm for someone who so desperately didn't know what to do.

"I don't know, either," I said, peeking out from between my fingers.

"I -- didn't _want _to do it," he went on hesitantly, turning me loose and slumping against the sofa back. "I mean, I suppose we've all _daydreamed _about killing Dumbledore, but I didn't --"

"I have never daydreamed about killing Dumbledore," I interjected helpfully.

" -- I didn't plan it. It was a last resort, Tess. Plan B -- No, not even Plan B," he interrupted himself. "Plan C. Plan F. Plan Q."

I snorted into my sleeve, amazed at this inadvertent display of humor. He ignored me.

"I'm as good as dead," he muttered finally, his eyes settling on some invisible thing over the fireplace.

I patted his shoulder reassuringly, my own vision swimming very slightly. "That's not the same as _being _dead," I remarked, thinking this a very practical observation indeed. "Maybe you need a drink. This whole thing seems a little silly after a few -- oh, go on, Spindle." The cat had jumped back into my lap protectively and was now eyeing Severus. I grabbed Spindle around the middle and tossed him unceremoniously onto the floor, where he began very indignantly grooming himself.

"Wish I was a cat," I mused, watching Spindle intently. "When in danger or in doubt, wash your ears or paws or snout." I snickered at my rhyme. "I need to remember that one."

"You Americans have no tolerance whatsoever."

"Tolerance for what?" I asked.

This extracted a laugh.

"What do you know about it, anyway?" I asked, stifling a yawn. "You don't drink. Never did."

"Of course I do."

"Oh, sure. Have you been sneaking Muggle potions into Hogwarts along with your own? I hear with the right incanterations -- incantilations -- with the right words a wizard can brew up some evil moonshine."

"Are you telling me you haven't tried it, you old drunk?"

"It's something better left to the folks back home," I replied, my accent unexpectedly resurfacing after years of dormancy.

"Where _are _you from, Tess? I don't believe I've ever asked."

"Nobody at Hogwarts did. Can you imagine? I guess if they'd known, the teasing would have been that much worse."

"I never teased you."

"You were too busy being teased yourself."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I was off brewing -- er -- moonshine."

I guffawed at the mental picture this comment inspired. I believe Severus even cracked a smile himself.

"I'm from the hills, I said mournfully, quieting down. The effects of the alcohol were already wearing off. "My grandparents used to live in a little town called Blakes Fork, in eastern Kentucky. Back then, of course, the charge of witchcraft was a serious one, and it wasn't long before they were run out of town." I paused, surprised at my ability to tell the story so lucidly. I had never told it before. "They found a -- a sort of natural terrace on a hillside," I continued. "Big enough for a cabin or two, though it was only the two of them at first. That's where my mother was raised, and her brother, and where I was raised, too." I paused for a moment, deep in thought, then added, "A little later, of course."

"Of course. And your father?"

"I don't know much about him, to be honest. My grandparents were apparently sitting on quite a hoard of family gold, which they used to send my mother up to the Flatiron Wizarding Academy when she came to school age. That's where she met my father, a provincial Muggle who pretended to be Parisian. 'Dandified French son of a bitch,' she always called him later. Married him, got knocked up, had me, then divorced him and came back home."

"To the cabin on the hill," Severus finished thoughtfully.

" 'The cabin on the hill,' " I said. "How very poetic of you. It wasn't poetic, though. My grandparents weren't the world's greatest carpenters. And magic only takes you so far."

"Still, not a bad existence. Rather...tucked away, wouldn't you say?"

The haze briefly cleared from my head, and I felt a sort of mental click. "I suppose so," I answered.

He seemed to take notice of this moment of clarity, and quickly caught the fumble. "You seem drawn to such places," he remarked carefully, glancing around my house.

"I suppose so," I repeated, feeling the coherence dissolve into a headache. I leaned back and began massaging my temples in an attempt to release the pressure that was building behind my eyes. "I'm not helping you, you know," I said in a low voice, regretting all I'd shared. "Whatever it is you're getting at, you can just forget it."

To my complete surprise, he laughed. It was a relieved sort of laugh, haggard but genuine. "I should've known I'd get nothing from you, Tess."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"You're so maddeningly moral."

"Sorry," I snapped sarcastically, feeling my headache intensify.

"I never said it was a bad thing." He offered me a look of mild concern, and for a moment I could almost forget the terrible confession he had made. But not quite.

"Headache?" he asked.

I nodded. "This is why I don't do shots."

"You need to sleep."

"You need to leave. If anyone finds out you've been here..."

"All right, then," he said, docilely rising to his feet.

I stared up at him, shocked. "That's it?" I asked shrilly. "Now you're going to just walk out of here as if nothing's happened?"

"I'll stay if you like," he replied, a note of teasing in his voice.

"I'd like you to get the hell out," I said seriously as I stood up. "I'm just wondering why you didn't leave a long time ago. Like, say, the first time I asked you to leave -- before you stole my wand and tried to hold me prisoner."

He actually looked hurt. "I didn't wish to imprison you. I only wanted..."

"What?"

"I only wanted to make you understand," he snapped. "My desperation made me fool enough to believe that was possible. Now I realize my error and will attempt to correct it." He pulled on his cloak and muffler, walked to the door, and swung it open, all with a resigned air that struck me as vaguely ridiculous.

I boggled at him, then followed him to the rain-soaked front step. He seemed to hesitate and turned back to me.

"I've a question for you, Tess," he said.

"All right."

"If I hadn't -- done it, would you have helped me?"

"If you hadn't done it, my dear, you wouldn't need my help."

"Say -- say it had only been an accident. A...misfire. Would you have helped me then?"

I frowned and searched his face for some clue as to where he was going with this, but found nothing. "Yes, I suppose I would have," I answered finally.

"Can you ever forgive me?" he asked, so softly I had to lean out into the rain to hear.

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could form any words, he turned and strode off into the darkness.


End file.
